“Wouldn’t want that.”
“I think Donovan is beating Liam at pool. Wanna go watch?”
“Hell yes.”
Trevor knocked his glass against Jamie’s and they headed down the hall for the game room that was really only used during house parties. The large room was decked out with a comfortable couch in front of a video game system against the far wall and the aforementioned antique pool table.
Liam and Donovan were on the eight ball of the current game, with Matthew avidly watching how it played out.
“What was the bet?” Trevor asked.
“Their honor and their slice of the sweet potato pie Gracie brought,” Matthew answered.
Jamie whistled. “High stakes. I’d cheat for the pie.”
“They have been.”
“So who’s winning?”
Matthew shrugged as he finished what was left in his beer bottle. “Who the fuck knows?”
“Aw, man. Seriously?” Donovan complained as he pressed down on the end of Liam’s pool cue right as he tried to take a shot. “You were supposed to be keeping score.”
Liam missed the shot, then grabbed the eight ball and dropped it into the nearest pocket. “Game over. I win.”
“Bullshit!”
Trevor set his glass on the wooden edge of the pool table and got to work racking the balls. “You and me Donovan. Let’s go.”
“You putting up your slice of pie as collateral?”
“Hell no. Just your pride.”
Liam laughed and got out of the way. Picking up his empty glass, he pointed a finger at the door. “Need a top up.”
Jamie nodded. “All right.”
They left the room, got new drinks, and headed for the rooftop. The smell of grilling meat hit Jamie’s nose while the sound of Annabelle and Alexei’s squabbling filled his ears.
“I don’t want the fire that hot!” Annabelle said.
“Is fire! Ishot!” Alexei retorted.
There wasn’t any anger in their voices, just a good-natured teasing argument that Jamie wasn’t worried about. Annabelle stood in front of the grill, playfully snapping a pair of metal tongs underneath Alexei’s nose as he grudgingly lowered the flames a little using his pyrokinesis.
The rooftop garden was maintained by the same cleaning crew that handled the penthouse, which meant it was carefully cultivated and well taken care of. Despite the muggy spring weather, it was nice to be outside away from the grind of the streets below. Someone had set the long patio table for lunch with plates and flatware, making sure to keep room for the food dishes.
Jamie and Liam walked over to the rooftop wall, the structure of the building rising up to waist level before transitioning into a foot-wide thick plas-glass barrier, offering up a 360-degree view of the Washington, D.C. megacity.
“Cheers for the invite today,” Liam said.
“You’re always welcome here,” Jamie told him.
“I know. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m grateful. I’m going to have loads of appearances in the next few days leading up to the State Dinner. It’s nice to have a break before the madness descends.”
“You’re more than welcome to join us on any missions if you need an escape.”
“I wish, but I’m under strict orders to act like a prince, not a soldier for this State visit. No joint missions for me.” Liam looked askance at him, squinting a little through the sunlight. “But if anything happens concerning the Pavluhkins while I’m here, I’m sure Gran would understand.”
